


Sweet Possibilities

by Cowoline



Series: Sweet aromas [6]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowoline/pseuds/Cowoline
Summary: Raphael promised he would be back - and he wants their souls and abilities desperately. Believing everyone can be manipulated, if you just know how, Astarion's midnight hunt turns into a nightmare. Nightmares forcing an introspection and feelings that must be avoided at all cost.There is survival. There can be nothing beyond it, and yet...
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Series: Sweet aromas [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975534
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	Sweet Possibilities

I stalk through the forest for any creature large enough to sate my hunger. The moonlight casts a strong light through the leaves, so I stay to the shadows - avoiding even this dim light. For a moment I entertain the idea of Zalia being by my side during this. Her tiefling eyes give her an eyesight equal to my own, and she is an adept ranger. Perhaps it is for the better that she is sleeping peacefully in our tent back at camp. I wouldn’t want competition for this. I hear a ruffle in the bushes, and I feel myself salivating with anticipation. What might it be? A boar? A bear? A stray goblin or kobold?

Another step and I’m standing in front of a fireplace. I look around, and I’ve been here before. The cool moonlight is replaced by the warm fire, lighting up the comfortable and nicely decorated room. Meant to make you feel safe, but I know I was safer in the woods.

“Raphael, how good of you to invite me - though I did have other dinner plans for the evening.” I turn and see him standing in front of a large dining table filled to abundance with a glorious feast.

“Come now, I have a most intriguing offer for you.” His lips turn into a smile, reminiscent of the ones Cazador would use.

“Please, regale me.” I bow, faking subservience.

He hands me a glass and I smell the blood. Not the blood of a creature, but a person. My hunger growls and my mouth begins to salivate. I reach for the glass, but I do not drink. Raphael smiles, reaching for a glass of wine on the table, swirling the glass before taking in the aroma as he drags out every second into an eternity.

“Cazador is closing in on you. Can you sense his presence?”

“What of it?” I cross my arms, hiding the feeling of dread that coils around my limbs.

He reaches for a few grapes, leaning back in the chair, slowly eating them one at a time. “No need to be suspicious, Astarion. You want to be free, and I want to see you free of him. I can tell you how.”

I laugh. “I have the tadpole now. Cazador no longer has  _ any _ control over me!”

“Are you certain of that?”

The setting around us changes. The warm firelight dimed by darkness so clouded even my eyes struggle. We’re standing in Cazador’s crypt, and the dread turns into ice piercing my skin. Cazador sits on his throne, his puppets all around him. In front of him I see Zalia on her knees in chains, wearing the clothes of a concubine. Her lovely neck is covered in scars from being bitten again and again, while her red skin appears paler. Every inch of her is covered in scars from torture. The chain is tied to Cazador’s chair, where he sits drinking blood -  _ her _ blood from a wine glass.

His dark eyes narrow in on me. “Now, you will obey me boy, unless you wish for her to suffer.”

I try to hide how deeply this vision disturbs me. I know it isn’t real. I ignore Cazador’s mirage and turn to Raphael. “What do I care if he has her? Even if he did I would still kill him.”

The cambion laughs. “You can lie to yourself - convincingly even - but you cannot hide your true desires from me. How long has it been since anyone cared about your existence?”

I grit my teeth keeping silent. He stands up, walking around me.

“Even before you became a vampire spawn most of those around you never truly cared. Don’t be ashamed, it’s only natural that you get swept away by it.”

“I am  _ not _ some mindless simpleton that hungers for sweet nothings.”

“Sweet nothings? No. But  _ true _ affection and to have the support of another. Someone who shares your journey rather than controls it. In many ways you’re a starved man, and love is a remarkable comfort for such needs.”

I keep my eyes from looking at the vision of her. I cannot reveal that his words carry the smallest amount of truth.

“I do _ not _ love her.”

The image of Cazador gives the order for one of the spawn to toture Zalia. Her scream strikes at my heart - the pain worse than any I have felt before during this torture of Rapahael’s.

“No!” The words are out of my mouth before I can think better of it and I’m reaching for her. The vision stops and Raphael chuckles.

“You are not the talented liar you pretend to be.”

I sneer, staring at the smug grin of the cambion. This was a threat.

“I would kill her myself before I would allow this to happen.”

Raphael smiles. “Of course you would. And there is a chance that you could defeat Cazador, the Absolute and prevent yourselves from becoming mindflayers, but what then? She has a family and responsibilities. You know it is only a matter of time before she leaves.”

The scene changes, and my body is no longer my own to control. I become one with the vision - controlled and guided by it. My feet take me through the streets of Baldur’s gate, to the outskirts and into the forest. A clearing appears, last of the evening light bathing a cottage in a golden light.

I hide in the woods as I see Zalia. I know it’s been years, but she is just as exquisite as I can recall. The long black hair, the delicious red skin and those lilac eyes of hers. The cottage is small and made of logs. There is nothing grand to it, but it’s simple and humble and blends in with the surroundings. It’s made for survival - just like her. Even from a distance I can see her daughter - five years old by now - has her mother’s beautiful eyes. There is an impish look to the little girl as well as she attempts to frame her older brother by piercing the wrapper from something on to his tail. I chuckle at her deviousness, though I know she won’t succeed. Her mother never did miss much.

I recognize the stern yet amused look Zalia gives her daughter - I have been on the receiving end often enough. Her son must look more like his father with his orange skin and blue demonic eyes. I watch them for a while, this quiet life of Zalia’s that I would never belong in.

The sun sets and the lights in the cottage begin to go out one by one. I crawl up the vines leading to the open window. As I throw my legs over the windowsill I feel the cold blade of a dagger pressed against my throat.

I chuckle. “Well, this reminds me of how we met, darling.”

“Astarion?” I hear the surprise in her voice as the blade falls from my throat. Her lilac eyes look into mine as her beautiful red lips are silent. A simple white nightgown shimmers in the moonlight in contrast with her red skin. She shakes her head and takes a step back.

“What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t I visit an old friend without arousing suspicion?” I grin, but my heart beats faster. How long has it been since I even heard her voice?

She chuckles. “Visiting an ‘old friend’ usually doesn’t mean crawling through a window in the middle of the night. Perhaps there is a good reason why other vampires can’t enter a house uninvited. Seems manners are lost on you.”

“You’re right, but given the circumstances… well, I didn’t want to wake your children.”

“How thoughtful.” She shakes her head in amusement and reaches for her robe - some modesty, though pointless as I can still recall every inch of her. The softness of her skin, her taste, her sighs when I kiss her neck.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Are you in trouble?” Her frown reveals concern for me and for a moment my heart stops.

“No. I’ve been keeping on the straight and narrow.”

“Ha. I doubt that.”

I swallow as I take a step towards her and the look in her eyes magnifies her concern.

“The truth is…” for a moment the words die on my lips, but I force myself to continue. “I missed you to distraction.”

She closes her eyes, her expression pained. “I’ve missed you too, but we agreed a long time ago this wouldn’t work. Living in the middle of nothing with the responsibilities of a parent isn’t exactly fun.”

“I know, but I’m here now…”

“But nothing has changed, has it?” She looks at me closely, looking for any sign of deception.

“No, but my heart is still yours.” I hear my voice crack at my confession.

Zalia closes her eyes, trembling and I see the sorrow as clearly as the day we parted. I take her hands in mine. “Just for tonight can’t we pretend nothing ever changed?”

She pulls her hands back and rubs her face with a sad smile. “I swear if you just came here for a snack--”

“Was that a ‘yes’?” I step closer letting my hands rest on her waist.

Instead of answering her arms snake around my neck and she pulls me down for a deep kiss.

I feel her lips and it all vanishes. I find myself at Raphael’s mansion, him sitting at the table sipping his wine as if watching an opera with great amusement. I sneer, but do not speak. I want this to be over with - this sick game of his, but if he  _ can _ help...

“So touching, and yet so sad.” His sympathy is mocking. “To think you would be pining away for something you could never have.”

“What I do with my life after is no concern of yours.”

He laughs. “Certainly. And what will you do with that freedom? Become a husband and father?”

It all vanishes again, and I find myself in the forest again - losing all sense of what just happened. 

My muddy boots traipse through the forest towards the cabin. The boar weighs heavy on my shoulders. The morning sun is barely making its way through the trees, but Scratch barks at my arrival. If the dog is outside that can only mean that the devils are awake. A tiefling boy at the age of ten runs out the door towards me.

“Astarion!” He grins as he runs towards me. His eyes grow wide as he sees the boar. “Wow! You got a big one.”

“Yes, so you better have a big appetite.”

“You’re a better hunter than mum.”

“Shhh, don’t let her hear you. We’ll never hear the end of it.” I wink at him and he grins winking back.

“Can’t I come with you soon? I want to learn to hunt.”

I smile, but shake my head. The children have no idea of what I am. They don’t realize why I go out at night and bring home gaim in the mornings. As far as they know I am a hunter like their mother, not noticing that the animals are drained of blood or that the arrows are always placed in the neck of the creatures after death.

“You’re still too young, but we can train with your bow later today.”

He crosses his arms as he walks, disappointed. “I’m  _ not _ too young.”

“Alright, you little devil, then you can carry this.” I place the boar on his neck and he groans as he struggles from the weight of it. I don’t let go completely - the weight of it would crush him.

“It’s heavy!”

“Oh, you’re not strong enough then?” I mock him and he scowls back.

“I am too!” He straightens his back and wobbles back to the house as I chuckle.

I see Zalia looking out the kitchen window, smiling at first, then scowling as she sees the boar, mouthing “Get that thing off his neck!”. I shrug and pick up the animal.

“Come, Zorrius, we should hang this up on the rack. Do you remember how to tie it?”

The boy looks up at me with a smile, rubbing his shoulders as he nods. Hanging the boar up for us to clean later, Zorrius and I walk into the house. The scent of freshly made bread, tea and porridge is delicious - a shame it is often flavourless to a vampire.

“Mum, did you see I carried the boar and helped Astarion tie it up!” Zorrius hugs his mother’s waist and she smiles.

“I did. Now go eat your breakfast.”

I walk over and she turns her head up to kiss me.

“You shouldn’t have let him carry it,” she hisses under her breath.

“He practically insisted!”

Zalia rolls her eyes as she hands me a mug with blood. It’s not necessary, but the children wants me to dine with them, so we have found a way to hide what I am. I nearly spill it as a small urchin tackles me, her small face nuzzled into my side. Misza, Zalia’s daughter, who just turned five.

“Morning sweetheart.” I stroke the girl on top of her head.

“Morning. Look! I set the table!” She points to it with great pride before taking me by the wrist dragging me towards it.

“Did you now?”

I feel comfortable content - until it all vanishes. The vision disrupted by the cambion's mocking laughter.

“Can’t you just imagine it? You, an elven noble and a vampire nonetheless, living in the middle of nowhere playing the dutiful husband and father to children that are not even your own.”

I suppress my own revulsion at the vision, and contemplate that it’s twofold. First, because I do in fact see the absurdity of it, and second, because for a brief moment of my existence it was actually-- desirable.

“Anything would be better than the years I was Cazador’s slave!” I hiss, my anger getting to a point of a rabid beast.

“I don’t doubt it, but this? You can’t seriously think this could work. You would get bored, restless. After centuries of servitude, surely you want more out of life.”

The devil has a point. And in truth nothing he is saying is a surprise, but merely a natural conclusion of feelings and thoughts I have not dared linger at. Immediate survival is all I will allow myself to dwell on. As long as Cazador lives there can be nothing else.

Raphael takes another sip of wine, and I notice the glass of blood that has returned to my hand. It’s tempting, but I do not trust it - and I will not be bound.

“You could be a true vampire with your own coven.”

My eyes dart to Raphael. Well, this is certainly intriguing.

“Have as many lovers as you’d like, men, women - whatever would strike your fancy.”

The setting changes, but the wineglass in my hand remains. I’m in Cazador’s mansion above the crypt below. It is filled with so many horrendous memories, but I seem to recall none of them at the moment. All of it is newly refurbished, as if someone else lives here - and by remarkable “coincidence” all to my taste and liking. 

It is filled to the brim with people. Some vampires - spawn I recognize as once belonging to Cazador - but most are the nobles, the wealthy and the highborne of Baldur. They are feasting and drinking with a gluttonous appetite. Indulging in carnal delights and pleasures behind every door - intoxicated by the aromas, the wine and the seduction of my kin. None of them suspect that they are in fact themselves the feast.

No one suspects a thing. I can walk in the daylight after all, so I cannot possibly be a vampire. I am a renowned hero - vanquisher of the Absolute and protector of Baldur’s Gate. I have become an even more powerful vampire than Cazador ever could. I have power and influence that Cazador ever had or desired - and I have control over his spawn. Inside me something recoils as I look at them and remember my life, when I was a mere spawn. Yet I cannot give them freedom. Truthfully killing them would be kinder, but I would also lose power. They can be useful to me without me becoming Cazador.

I walk through the crowd, everyone eager to please, but I keep looking for her. There are no tieflings at this party, of course. They are vagrants after all, and yet every time I see the back of a black haired woman I look to make certain it isn’t her.

I rub my face. “This is ridiculous. I have everything I could ever want, yet here I am looking for  _ her _ .”

“Looking for whom, my love?”

I turn and I see her - Zalia. Dressed in a black gown with red embroidery, covered in expensive jewellery no tiefling would wear. All of them were gifts from me, and even though a moment ago I was not even certain she was present, I now vividly recall giving her each one.

“Well, you of course, darling.”

She laughs as she steps closer, taking the glass from my hand and drinking it. The metallic aroma of blood catches my scent, and she licks her lips with arousal. Zalia gives me a seductive gaze, her beautiful lilac eyes now turned deep red - demonic even. Her hand travels up my chest to reach for my cheek and her touch is cold - not just her skin, but as if it was void of any true affection. She looks around the room taking another sip from her glass.

“So, which of these souls should we bring to our bed tonight?”

Taken aback by the question I blink. “Excuse me?”

She laughs. “Oh, I had no idea you were this ravenous. We could bring two or three if you are so thirsty. I like the young man in the corner with his fiance. It would be a challenge, but oh so sweet. We could share him.”

Images, I would normally find tantalizing, rush into my mind. The young man between us in bed. Me taking him as he has sex with my wife. At the height of my ecstasy I strike, drinking his blood and then Zalia biting the other side of his neck. I shake my head and my mind goes to her children - Misza and Zorrious - what happened to them. I turn to the window and see two small bodies, frozen to death on the streets. It never affected me before, but now...

I hear Raphael’s laughter and I break out of the vision.

“Leave me the hells alone!” I scream looking at the cambion.

“As you wish. But remember, you could have it all. All you need to do--” his smile curls into something vicious “- is ask.”

“At what price?” I sneer.

“Her. I could remove this weakness. You know she would never let you grasp true power as long as her soul is still hers. Only this would give you ultimate freedom.”

His laughter continues as everything dims.

  
  
  
  


I find myself back in the forest, but I still hear Raphael’s cackling in my head. I wan’t--  _ need _ to be free from Cazador, but Zalia’s voice rings in my ear blocking out Raphael’s silver tongue. Her heated voice and burning eyes refusing to let me - any of us - become a slave, a pawn or a puppet. While her torment was never as extensive as mine, she  _ was  _ tormented by her husband. And yet, where many would have cowered in fear, she bought her time and didn’t hesitate to strike, when the opportunity presented itself.

“There you are.”

I turn and see Zalia standing in the moonlight, a soft smile on her lips. Lilac angel eyes dressed in the skin of a devil.

“What are you doing here?” My heart instantly regrets the growl, but I don’t want her to see it affecting me. She must never know that I am vulnerable.

She raises a brow, surprised, but not afraid or shocked. No, a mere vampire spawn would not frighten her.  _ I _ could never frighten her even should I try.

“I was worried. You have been gone for hours. I figured you might have attempted to fight another bear.” Her lips curl into a smile, her eyes sparkling playfully in the moonlight.

“I don’t need you to worry.”

“Who said it has anything to do with what you need?” Her voice is stern, but void of any hurt. 

Try as I might, I know her heart is not easily touched. My seduction only succeeds when  _ she  _ allows it, and even with all her kindness she is not affected by people as most are. She is a lone wolf, a hunter, a survivor and far beyond the basic need of belonging and companionship. Her children being the only exception. No, where it is easy to be swept away by her attention, consideration and helpfulness, that only lasts as long as you  _ need  _ her. Once you do not, she will happily vanish, never granting you another thought.

“What is going on? Why are you staring at me like that?” She says, concern lingering in the tone of her voice.

I turn my back to her. “I’m leaving. It would be better if I go this road alone.” 

“Why?”

I can see her shadow on the ground standing still. No attempt to move. She wants an explanation, but she would never stop me. She has always been so adamant that our choices are our own to make. That is what makes her our leader, I think. Her ability to recognize we have a right to our secrets, our opinions and choosing our own path. It’s what makes us trust hers.

“Because you make me  _ weak _ !” I spin around taking a step towards her. My body tenses and I feel all the hate and fear fueling me.

She folds her arms, unimpressed, but still with some willingness to understand. “And how do I make you weak, exactly?”

I give a bitter laugh. Is she really so oblivious? “How? I follow you around like a pup. Seeking your counsel, your approval. I listen to your babble and your teasing - goading me into being ‘a  _ better version  _ of myself’.”

I pause to let my sarcasm sink in. “I should be taking every measure to ensure my freedom, but instead I follow your  _ restraint _ . I can’t risk everything, when my freedom is finally within my grasp, simply because I want you to--”

I stop myself, clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth. I almost said too much - I  _ did _ say too much. She is far too perceptive and shrewd not to have taken notice. Her eyes burn with anger rather than amusement, a look I have seen so rarely that something in me still recoils at the sight. It shows her true power, her true determination. No, this woman is no one's victim.

Zalia steps towards me, her voice a growl. “You think I want to be in love with you? You’re an arrogant, self serving arse, that would burn an orphanage to the ground for your own bloody amusement! You’re vindictive, careless and as Gale put it, have the moral longevity of a  _ mayfly _ !”

“Then you should be relieved of my absence. Tell me, why have you tolerated me this far?”

“Because!” She growls, but then closes her eyes, attempting to get a hold of herself. “Because you make me laugh, and despite everything you have gone through and everything we face, you’re still strong enough to take pleasure from even the small things - like the sunlight on your skin. Because, where others doubt,  _ we _ are determined to survive - it is not a question if we will, but simply that we  _ must _ .”

She takes a deep breath shaking her head. “I’ll be fine on my own, and I  _ will _ face all this without you. But when we’re in this together, we are able to get through it a little easier - and experience just some minute bit of happiness along the way. A reprieve from everything terrible that haunts us.”

I feel anger rising at first, but then her words seek in. My resolve falters and I can’t help but laugh. It’s not happy or out of irony, it’s-- something I can’t quite put into words. Zalia begins laughing too, her’s carrying self-deprecation. I step closer, my hands cupping her jaw.

“We’re in trouble, you know.”

She chuckles. “When are we not?”

“True.” I smile, but Raphael’s mind games are still cutting through my mind like a blade. “If…  _ when _ Cazador finally manages to catch up to me, I can’t promise to protect you. For all I know I might still be under his command. If that’s the case then the torment that will come after will be more than mere heartache. I--”

She puts a thumb to my lips. “Shh… I know and I don’t expect that. I promised I would help you find a way to defeat Cazador, and I’m not giving up. And when you are going to get even with him, I’ll support you.”

I sigh and rest my brow on hers. “In truth, leaving now would still be too late. If he somehow discovers that you mean anything to me, it won’t just be me he will be hunting.”

She hums with understanding, closing her eyes and I turn her chin up so that I might kiss her. The way she melts into me is comforting. She once said I would be safe with her, and when her arms are around me like this I can almost allow myself to believe it. Shadowheart remarked on our differences, but what I see are similarities. Zalia has a strength and determination that can challenge gods. An ability for survival few can rival. And while she is far too kind, she also remains realistic. She does not expect others to save her and she does not cling to some ideal of the world that does not exist.

She pulls away, breaking the kiss and I feel cold by her absence.

“I should get back to camp. Are you coming or leaving?”

There is no begging me to stay. No pleading. This is my choice, and she will not take it from me. I take her hand and we start walking back. Her fingers intertwine with mine, and in a way this feels more intimate than sharing her bed.

“Oh, and just so we’re clear; I would  _ never  _ burn down an orphanage.” My grin turns wicked as we continue to walk. “It would be an awful waste of some perfectly good treats.”

Despite herself, she laughs and gives me an elbow in the side. “You’re terrible!”

“Good thing I have you to keep me on the ‘straight and narrow’ then… Well, mostly.”

“I think you overestimate my powers of persuasion.”

“Nonsense. If anything I underestimated the effect you would have on me. I should have killed you back when we first met.” I’m kidding, of course, but I wonder if she understands the truth in it as well.

“I would have taken you with me,” she growls, barely concealing a grin.

I smile. “I know you would.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this story. Thanks to Cel for beta reading this for me :)


End file.
